


shut up and

by Lirazel



Category: Infinite (Band), K-POP RPF, K-pop, Korean Pop, Kpop-Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirazel/pseuds/Lirazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Myungsoo hates Sungyeol and Sungyeol hates Myungsoo.  The end.</i>
</p><p>set in the universe of the <i>Shut Up Flower Boy Band</i> parody</p>
            </blockquote>





	shut up and

Myungsoo really, really hates the piercings rimming Sungyeol’s ear: shiny and too many, hates the way they feel under his tongue: sharp and cool, hates the sound Sungyeol makes when he plays with them: harsh and desperate. 

“I’m totally hotter,” he says against the shell of Sungyeol’s ear, ignoring completely the way Sungyeol’s fingers bite into the soft skin just above his hipbones when Myungsoo’s tongue darts out and prods at the little iron bar at the very top of Sungyeol’s ear. It looks so _stupid_ , that iron bar, all those piercings, like Sungyeol’s trying too hard to have an edge that rich guys just can’t possibly have, especially rich guys with mouths like that, with eyes like that, with hands like that. Myungsoo really hates the fact that he has to strain his neck just a little bit to reach the earrings, really hates how stupidly tall and long and tall Sungyeol is. 

Really hates the crack in Sungyeol’s voice when he shoots back, “In your dreams, moron. I’m the sexiest guy in the whole school,” and then dips his own head to bite at Myungsoo’s Adam’s apple, fingers digging even more sharply into Myungsoo’s skin.

Myungsoo totally doesn’t let out a helpless groan at the way Sungyeol’s teeth scrape over that bump in his neck, and the way his fingers tighten in Sungyeol’s—stupidly long, not at all soft or sexy—hair definitely isn’t frantic. “You’re about as sexy as Choi dam-tang,” he says, naming their ancient biology teacher. 

Myungsoo doesn’t shiver at the feeling of Sungyeol’s hand sliding away from his hips and down to his ass, doesn’t push it back against Sungyeol’s hand. “All those people staring at you?” Sungyeol’s voice is a little raspy and raw, but there’s nothing even remotely sexy about it. “They’re feeling sorry for you that you got stuck with that face. Of course, if they knew you, they’d know you deserved it, but—“ 

The moan Sungyeol lets out when Myungsoo shoves a leg between Sungyeol’s isn’t needy at all, and it definitely doesn’t make Myungsoo’s eyes cross and fingers pull even harder at Sungyeol’s hair. “At least people will look at my face. They don’t run screaming like they do when they see yours.”

Sungyeol may press his own thigh against Myungsoo’s crotch, but it definitely doesn’t encounter any hardness and Myungsoo definitely doesn’t whimper at the feeling, just like he doesn’t jerk off in the shower (or his bed. Or the bathroom stall at school when he’s bored and skipping third period) while picturing those longlong _long_ legs. 

“No, they’re too paralyzed with disgust at the sight of you to even be able to scream.”

If Myungsoo’s hips jerk forward at those words, it’s definitely just an involuntary gesture, not a frenzied one. And his hips don’t keep moving, because a burst of electric-bright pleasure definitely doesn’t lightning through him when the erection he doesn’t have doesn’t come in contact with Sungyeol’s thigh.

“Whatever. I make a _lot_ of people scream. My name.”

Sungyeol’s hips aren’t moving now in a rhythm scarily in sync with Myungsoo’s, and his mouth isn’t pressed against Myungsoo’s own and his tongue isn’t in Myungsoo’s mouth and his teeth aren’t scraping at Myungsoo’s lips and his hand isn’t sliding down beneath Myungsoo’s underwear to cup Myungsoo’s ass and Myungsoo doesn’t love the feel of it. At all.

So they don’t have to pull apart in order for Sungyeol to say, “Please. There is no one on earth who finds you sexy. You couldn’t get anyone hot if you spent the rest of your life trying.”

Myungsoo is not humping Lee Sungyeol’s leg in the laundry room in Sungjong’s basement. And Lee Sungyeol is not humping him right back. 

“Like you could? You could be locked in a room with the easiest person on the planet right after they’ve lived alone on an island for ten years without any access to sex or porn, and you _still_ couldn’t get them hot.”

There is nothing out of control about the way they’re moving against each other because of course they aren’t moving against each other at all. Myungsoo doesn’t even remember that Sungyeol exists half the time and Sungyeol rarely even notices Myungsoo’s presence. And when they sometimes are forced to acknowledge each other because of the new band, the only things they feel for each other are searing hatred or cold disdain. That’s it.

“Do you even know what sex is? If there were only two people left on earth and you had to repopulate it, the other person would let the entire human race become extinct before they would even dream of touching you.”

Myungsoo isn’t nearly delirious with pleasure, isn’t so very _very_ close to the edge, isn’t having to pause between insults to rip kisses from Sungyeol’s evil, stupid mouth because he just can’t handle not having it against his. None of that is happening at all.

“I hate everything about you.”

Sungyeol doesn’t let out a helpless moan at the words, doesn’t grab Myungsoo’s ass even tighter, doesn’t speed up the rhythm of his hips at Myungsoo’s words.

“I hate everything about you even more.”

Myungsoo doesn’t come in his own pants at the sound of those words cracked in Sungyeol’s breathy voice, doesn’t yank on Sungyeol’s hair so hard that Sungyeol follows after him, doesn’t moan loud and low as Sungyeol bites down on Myungsoo’s shoulder through the thin fabric of his uniform shirt. And their hips definitely don’t keep moving in the aftershocks, trying to draw out the orgasms they didn’t just have, and they definitely don’t cling to each other as they pant against each other’s mouths. And they definitely, definitely, _definitely_ don’t kiss each other, deep and long, one more time before they jerk apart and start to put themselves back together again, because they didn’t just dry-hump each other to orgasm because _that doesn’t happen_. 

At all. 

Ever.

So they don’t have to change into new clothes that they haven’t taken to bringing with them when they go to band practice. And they don’t check each other out while they pull on fresh clothes, and Myungsoo doesn’t admire the long pale lines of Sungyeol’s body and Sungyeol doesn’t slide dark eyes over every inch of Myungsoo, and they don’t elbow each other as they fix their hair in the dim, cracked mirror above the washing machine. Because there’s nothing to see and there’s nothing to fix. Nothing at all.

But they are glaring at each other as they head back to the part of Sungjong’s basement where their bandmates and their instruments are waiting. Because they’re very good at glaring at each other. When they look at each other, which they don’t do very often at all, that’s all they ever do.

“Where are Myungsoo and Sungyeol?” It’s Sunggyu’s voice, annoyed, coming through the thin wall over the sound of him picking out notes on his guitar.

“Probably somewhere fighting over who gets to be the visual again,” Woohyun answers, sounding completely uninterested. 

“Why do they always disappear when they start arguing about that?” Sunggyu asks, but he doesn’t sound particularly worried about the answer. Which is probably a good thing, because the only answer he gets is Sungjong—or Hoya?—snorting. 

Myungsoo and Sungyeol shove each other trying to get through the narrow door and end up yelling insults and have to be shouted down by Sungjong’s sharp tongue before they retreat to opposite ends of the room and spend the rest of practice scowling at each other.

Because Kim Myungsoo hates every single thing about Lee Sungyeol, and Lee Sungyeol hates everything about him right back. And that’s all that’s ever been between them.

Really.


End file.
